


War Dogs of Old Kanto

by LTBlue



Category: Pokemon
Genre: Absol - Freeform, Anime, Bi, Charizard - Freeform, Dragonair - Freeform, Gay, Gen, Guns, Haunter - Freeform, Hoenn, Japan, Kalos, Lesbian, Military, Ninetails - Freeform, OC, Onix - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Pokemon - Freeform, Raichu - Freeform, Sandslash, Scyther - Freeform, Slow Burn, Sniper - Freeform, Spec Ops - Freeform, Spies, Unova, WWII, War, f/f - Freeform, kanto, lairon, pokeball, queer, wlw, wwi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 14:20:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12961206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LTBlue/pseuds/LTBlue
Summary: Before the invention of the Poké Ball, bonding to a Pokémon is a rare gift. And in the war torn early twentieth century, the gift comes complete with a draft letter. These are the stories of Kanto’s Eleventh Ranger squad.





	1. Chapter 1

Last time I visited this country, and this was before Hoenn defected to the Consortium, before the war was much of a thing at all, it was to fish at Lake May with my parents. Dad let a trophy Magikarp break his line so his daughter, me, could keep my record of fattest catch of the day. I pretended I didn’t know it was on purpose. Two decades later, I’ve traded waders for combat boots and look down on the military outpost I’m to attack.

It’s not much of a base. Maybe a hundred personnel, tops, including non-combatants. The town it oversees is equally unimpressive. Good. This one should be easy for once. I don’t like the empty plains that surround it, though. We have no cover, save the dark.

“Sir?” says Bridge as she shoves some uncooperative blue hair under her helmet. Rangers are allowed non-regulation fashion. Command lets Rangers do damn near anything. And all we have to do in return are weekly suicide missions.

“Ghost, you and Jack go scout the camp. No deaths, not yet.”

The girl and the Haunter disappear. Ghost is the girl, the Haunter is Jack. Any other unit in the army and Ghost would be a freak. Trainers are weird enough, but mediums are worse, and bonding with a ghost-type?

But the Rangers don’t care. We’re just glad she’s on our side.

“Claws, would you—” before I finish, my Sandslash digs a trench for Bear to put his mounted machine gun. We’ve been together since before the war. My pokemon, not me and Bear, though we go back, too.

Finished with the set-up, Bear strokes the turret like a lover and pets his Dragonair with his off-hand. She wraps herself around his neck in response, which is surprising since Bear doesn’t really have a neck.

“I wonder what happens to a man hit with a .40 cal bullet and a hyper beam at the same time.”

“Let’s pray it stays a mystery,” I tell him. “This is just an extract. Quick and quiet. Your job is to provide cover in case we need a distraction, but all goes well, you and X will be superfluous, understood?”

X hadn’t needed an order, already in wait in a sniper’s perch, his Scyther standing guard lest anyone gets too close.

Bridge smiles without humor, checks her shotgun a third time, and scratches her Ninetales behind the ears. “Leaving just you, me, and Ghost against the whole base?”

“That and the new guy.”

Bridge’s smile drops. “It’s his first mission. No one plays front man on their first mission.”

“I need someone who can disable electronics. So unless Yamada can shoot a magnetic pulse from one of those tails, Corporal Surge comes along. Besides, you were complaining about being hopelessly outnumbered earlier.”

“Another body would be nice, but a rookie’s a liability. We don’t need a new guy. We need Kaido and Eiji.”

“Kaido’s dead and so is his Electabuzz.” Even now, it stings.

Surge looks at Bridge, straightens his posture, tries to steady his voice. Fails. “I’m a veteran of the war just like you, lieutenant. Sir.”

Shit, how old was this kid again? Seventeen or eighteen? I can’t remember.

“How many battles have you fought in?” asks Bridge. “One? Two? You were on summer fucking vacation while we were storming the shores of Kalos. If command wasn’t so desperate for trainers—”

“Enough!” I shout slightly too loud. “That’s an order, LT.”

A beep in my ear interrupts us. I’m grateful.

“Captain. Finished a full sweep. No trainers here, just guns. Jack could probably take this place himself.” Somehow, Ghost’s voice is even more monotone over the comm.

“Negative, Specialist.”

“Roger that. Only place Dr. Kazan could be is a magnetically sealed bunker we found in the south east corner. Not even Jack could get inside.”

“Copy. Suggested route?”

I picture Ghost’s detached half smile as she says, “Eastern gate’s wide open. Sent a couple sentries to sleepy town.”

“Jack making sure they have sweet dreams?”

“Yeeeaah.”

We move in, and I hope Surge doesn’t piss himself. Maybe I should give him a few words of encouragement. I don’t.

I spot Jack before I find his owner, and the eight of us make our way to the bunker. We KO two soldiers on the way, kill three others without making a sound. Claws shallowly buries the survivors while Yamada turns the corpses to ash.

Bridge wants to torch them all, but that’s not the mission and I still have a hang up about killing unconscious men.

The bunker is a small, simple, iron construction. But the door is solid and the mag field keeps me from touching the metal.

“If we kill the field can Yamada melt the hinges?” My LT nods so I motion toward Surge.

The kid shakes, swallows some spit. “Raichu, thunder shock, but keep it quiet.” Raichu cocks it’s head; hesitation. That’ll kill you out here in the field, your Pokémon questioning orders. Moreso than a gun jam. Maybe even moreso than you hesitating.

No doubt the kid’s a strong trainer. Most people with the gift are lucky to bond with a Krabby, much less an evo. But he’s still green. And his Pokémon senses the doubt. Bridge was right. Fucking dammit.

The field dies and the door sizzles. And there he is: the target. The man we’re to kidnap, gift to command, and maybe get some shiny medals to show for it. Our good friend Doctor Kazan. He looks like he walked out of some corny Unovan flick. Balding, thin, white lab coat, glasses, mouth agape.

In front of him is a table full of tools that I can’t name, at his back a chalk board crammed full with calculations and a diagram of what looks like an egg split down the middle.

The Doc’s shockingly fast and snatches something off the table. A weapon? I raise my assault rifle, “Drop it, asshole!”

But he doesn’t and it’s not a weapon. It’s a wireless trigger. “Surge!” I shout, but too late.

The Rookie looks at me, then back at the Doc.

“Huh? Oh, Raichu, shock him!”

Kaido wouldn’t have needed my order and Eiji wouldn’t have needed Kaido’s. Kaido would’ve pointed and Kazan would be paralyzed, flat on his back. But Surge wasn’t Kaido.

Kazan clicks the button and his desk goes up like a suicidal Electrode.

We’re all thrown onto our asses. My vision returns in six seconds. Hearing takes longer. The team’s a bit bloodied, but alive, save Kazan and his bloody research. Command will throw a bitch and a half.

It sounds like it’s half a mile off, but I make out Bridge cussing up a storm. The glare I give her shuts her mouth and I help Surge to his feet.

“Sir, I’m… I—”

“Later, corporal.”

Ghost stares blankly forward. Well, more blank than usual, anyway. I pray to the Primals she isn’t concussed. Then I follow her eyes. Shit. This wasn’t just a lab. It was a secret mine shaft.

Behind the chalkboard is a hidden door. Or was a hidden door. A full cart at the entrance tells me what they’re mining. Just the ore in that cart is worth more than the whole base combined. No wonder they wanted to keep this a secret.

Surge looks on with confusion. Bridge sighs.

Did command know? They couldn’t have, right?

Either way, a Crystalnode mine is bound to be protected. Really protected. By trainers.

The ringing in my ears keeps me from estimating distance, but I hear soldiers outside. Time to make scarce. I get on the comm. “Bear, X, ops gone FUBAR. Go loud.”

“Roger,” says X.

“Roger,” says Bear, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine the glee in his voice.

I turn to the rest of the team. “Surge, as we run, Raichu hits all the generators. Ghost, send Jack ahead to draw fire. Maybe they’ll be stupid enough to waste bullets. Yamada and Claws will take the rear throwing up dust and smoke to cover our ass. Everyone else run and shoot like hell. Go!”

We step into a storm of bullets and return fire. Generators blow, sometimes taking out hostiles, sometimes not, always taking out lights. Darkness makes it harder to shoot, but harder to get hit, so I’ll take what I can get.

I’m on point and fire my rifle in short bursts, Bridge’s shotgun spits shells almost as fast. Surge sprays his SMG wildly.

Ghost hangs back with a handgun in one hand and tachi in the other, shooting and cutting down those who run through the smokescreen and make it past Yamada and Claws. She favors the sword.

How is Ghost not coughing? I’m all the way in front and hacking up a lung.

Halfway to the fence and with a trail of scorched, shocked, and riddled bodies behind us, we round a corner where an unlucky private’s been waiting for me. My hand throws him to the ground, my foot stomps his neck. Maybe he’ll live, I’ve already forgotten his face. Too busy worrying about the second enemy I failed to notice in time. A woman with a slug barrel trained on me. I raise my rifle but it won’t matter. She has the drop on me. This could be it.

Then her head disappears.

X, you rude, intolerable, alcoholic, lecherous bastard, I love you more than my fucking mother.

Next I see Bear’s handiwork. He’s cut a path for us and from the corner of my eyes I spot a hyper beam slice through a support pillar on a watch tower. The men inside jump and only break their legs. The one crushed under the debris is less fortunate.

We can’t leave through the gate we entered, so I point to the fence and Claws gets to work.

“B squad,” I shout into the comm, “We won’t reach rendezvous Alpha on our own, requesting pick up ASAP!”

We sprint through the hole in the fence and I cut my arm a bit on the steel. I turn to Ghost. A Haunter can’t ride in an Armored Fighting Vehicle or keep up with one, so I make a judgement call as I fire a few rounds. “Send Jack to rendezvous Gamma. If we don’t pick him up in an hour, tell him to head to evac.”

Sixty five seconds later and the open top AFV drives by just slow enough for us all to jump in. One sorry bastard on our tail gets creamed by X’s driving. Two more lose their heads to X’s Scyther. I’ve no idea how Bear got his gun inside the car’s mounted port so fast, but no complaints here.

More bullets trade, then we’re gone, over the hill. Goodbye, Doctor Kazan. I wonder why they aren’t pursuing. But fuck it. Don’t say no to a free Chansey egg.

“Anyone hit?”

Ghost shakes her head, but I wasn’t too worried about her. You can’t kill a Ghost.

Bridge hits her chest plate twice. “Took one to the chest. Armor held.”

“I’m, uhh, shot. In the arm, barely.” Surge goes red and looks away. It’s not a bad hit, all things considered, but no gunshot is good, either.

“Somebody grab the wheel,” says X before jumping into the truck bed with the rest of us.

“Asshole,” screams Bridge as she takes control, barely preventing a roll-over.

X. Man of many talents. Sniper. Tech genius. Champion drinker despite weighing a hundred and ten pounds. Card player. Master of lewd jokes. And squad medic.

“Take off your shirt, greenie,” he orders.

“I’m okay, Sergeant, it’s a scratch.”

“I’m happy to take it off for you,” says X with a wink. Surge does as he’s bid and X goes to work. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional. Mostly. Partly. Well, sometimes I flirt with the idea of professionality. But look on the bright side, it’s not a leg wound, so your pants can stay put. I imagine a guy like you goes commando?”

“Lay off the rookie, Sarge,” I say.

“Wait,” it’s Bear. “Wasn’t there a target to extract?” Everyone stays quiet. “Is that why the four of you are so sullen?”

Bridge just fumes, Ghost looks away. I decide on honesty.

“Partly.”

Ghost doesn’t look at me when she speaks. “Are we going to talk about what we saw? Behind the chalkboard?”

“I still don’t understand,” says Surge.

“I’m sure that’s true for a lot of things,” Bridge replies.

I ignore her this time, then hear a roar. Should’ve paid more attention in my wildlife classes. “Shit, wild Graveler?”

“Lairon,” growls Bridge through gritted teeth.

I’d bet my ass it’s part of a cavalry unit. Riders are trainers, just like Rangers, and they have to bond with their Pokémon all the same. But for a pokemon to let you ride it? Cavalry officers are harsh masters. Cruel, even. Pokémon mounts are their property, not fellow squad members.

Bear feeds another belt of ammo into his machine gun. “Fuckers.”

Cavalry tried to hire Bear once. Bear broke the recruiter’s nose. “Even if I was a sadistic piece of shit,” he’d said as I picked him up from the brig. “I still wouldn’t go cavalry. I like my Pokémon elegant, and only a brute could carry my weight.”

Even with nothing but starlight, I can make out a figure on the horizon. Multiple figures, getting closer. No doubt heavily armed Riders.

“Step on it,” I order.

They’ll have to catch us first, then they’ll have to kill us. Yeah, well, we’re Kanto’s Eleventh Ranger squad. Good fucking luck.


	2. Chapter 2

A Lairon with a heavily armored rider, so heavy as to remove any chances of sniping off the trainer. Running beside it, an Absol carrying it's master. All right. That I can work with.

I wonder briefly how closely they stationed the cavalry and if they were alerted to our attack by radio or by the Absol. It sees the future, right? Or do they only see natural disasters? Guess it doesn't much matter.

We lack anything with enough heavy firepower to stop a Lairon in its tracks, but it's not quick enough to catch us, anyway. The Absol may be fast enough, depending. With all our guns and Dragonair, I think we can drop it before it kills anyone.

We'll be fine. We'll be fine.

"Fuck, that's no good," says Bridge. "Bad omen, right there."

Ever the scientist, X chuckles dismissively. But I can tell he doesn't like it any more than my lieutenant.

I figure I should reassure them."Absol's just another pokemon, team. Whatever else it can do, it can't spit out bullets."

My people nod in agreement. And then they sweat.

"Trade," says Ghost, swapping her pistol for Surge's SMG, probably figuring she can make better use of it with her two good arms to his one.

"X, can you drop the rider before the Absol closes range and uses its dark abilities?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I can try, but against a fast moving target in a bumpy ass car? Bear has a better chance by virtue of sheer bullet volume."

"Try anyway when she gets closer. Bear, fire on my command, but Dragonair can hyper beam at will."

The Dragonair charges a blast and directs it at the bright white steed. Absol leaps aside. The Dragon's glowing horn acts as a beacon, giving the enemy plenty of time to dodge. Fine. We'll keep up the pressure, anyway. It'll be in reach of my rifle soon enough.

"I don't know how, but Absol's draining Dragonair, Sir."

"Then pace your pokemon, Bear."

I hear a roar, not behind us with the rest of our pursuers, but in front, louder than even Lairon. Crap. There's no mistaking the silhouette behind the clouds. Cavalry's got a fucking Charizard.

If it makes one good pass the AFV will be slag, along with my squad.

The only way a Charizard could've made it here was to fly from Kanto, meaning the rider either hopped the pond to grab it as a Charmander then evolved it himself, or else the pokemon migrated to Hoenn as an evo. How many trainers could bond with a fully formed Charizard? And how many Charizards are big enough to comfortably carry a human being? Not a person I want to fight.

"New play," I shout. "Take out the dragon, focus fire, hold back nothing." Earlier, I thought I was out of sweat. I was wrong.

"Not a fucking dragon, Sir, but on it," says Bear.

Out of our torrent of bullets, fire, lightning, even grass blades; some land. But the missiles are fighting gravity, so nothing hits hard enough to pierce the hide.

Still, to get in range to torch us, it will have to get in kill range of our guns, too. Bring it on. "Hold your fire! Wait for the dive, then knock it from the sky!"

But the dive doesn't come. Charizard rains fire from above, and Bridge has to jackknife to avoid the flames, but we live. The pattern repeats twice more 'til it dawns on me.

"It never intends to swoop down," I say. "It's herding us towards its allies." I watch the panic spread over my squad mates' faces and I stay calm. I want to shit myself, sure, but I keep it together because I have to.

Alright, examine your options, Captain.

Situation is we're trapped in a triangular pincer and we lack the munitions and proper elements to blast our way out. Shit, what I wouldn't give for a water type right now. Even ice. But the Kyoi Rangers get all the water trainers. Fucking Navy gets everything good.

"Water."

"What was that, boss?" shouts X between fruitless shots at two hundred plus pounds of flying death.

"Lake May isn't far from here. Bridge, do you know the route?"

"Yeah, I read the maps. Why?"

"Just trust me. That's an order."

I look at my pursuers and do some estimations. We'll reach the lake before the Lairon catches us, even with the Charizard's herding. The Absol, though...

"X, keep the pressure on our orange friend. Don't want him thinking he can get too close. Bear, conserve ammo, but throw a few bullets at the Absol now and again and keep up the beams. Maybe you can slow it down. Everyone else, standby to hit either target."

No one speaks for the next minute. No one but the guns and the engine as Bridge pushes it to its limits to avoid the flames.

The lake enters view, but the Absol gains on us. Maybe three minutes before it cuts us off. Four until we reach May.

I unbuckle the clasps on my flak jacket and look at the eleventh. "Armor off, troops. Bridge. Drive us into the lake."

"Yamada won't like that," says Bridge.

"Neither will Claws. Neither will I."

"They'll shoot us as soon as we surface!"

"LT, I swear on the fucking birds, question my orders one more time and you'll swap rank with Surge! Everyone, take a deep breath before submerging, grab hands and don't let go. Under no circumstances let your Pokémon surface. Oh, and Surge, make sure your Raichu holds its lightning in!"

The Absol puts itself directly in our path. Stop or swerve and the Lairon catches us. Only thing to do is gun it down.

They won't feel good about it, the squad, but better to take whatever bad luck you get from killing an Absol than get killed by whatever attacks the Absol knows.

"Light it up," I shout, and we unload on the beautiful creature with everything we have. It bolts. It'll be a miracle if it survives the night, but I don't give a shit.

Bang! Bang!

Two reports of X's sniper go off. "Boss!" he screams. I know what's happened before I turn around.

Charizard must’ve dove.

Mouth wide, ten yards from our vehicle, tongues of fire licking the back of his throat. I look around for anything to save us.

Dragonair's still trained on the fleeing Absol, horn aglow, ready to fire. I yank her off Bear's neck and aim her at Charizard like a fire hose. Just as the fire-pokemon breathes out, our dragon blasts Charizard's face with a powerful silver beam.

Though not enough to kill the beast, it forces the monster to divert its head, if only just.

We still get burned, every one of us. Bear gets dead. I take one glance at Bear's body and know I'll never forget the sight. His massive muscles burned away, skeleton fused with that damned machine gun he loved so much.

There's a stinging heat on my face and I'm guessing I'll be burned on my left cheek forever. For some stupid reason I think about how my college boyfriend liked scars. We’d split up years earlier, but I heard that he’d eaten a bullet on the Kalos front.

Surge clutches Raichu like a life line. X passes out. Bridge's neon hair is ablaze as she tries to maintain control of the AFV. Ghost screams. I assume because her sleeve is on fire. The Pokémon aren't doing much better. It's a miracle Sky wasn't killed outright.

Something in the undercarriage of the car blows, X's Scyther takes flight, and the rest of us are launched deep into the lake. The water makes the burns hurt worse. Then the plan comes back to me. It's impossible to see, but I flail around for my people anyway.

I still have the Dragonair and I wonder if she knows Bear's dead. They're bonded. She has to know.

But she keeps me aloft and lights her horn which gives me enough light to search for the others. I find Claws first. He can't really swim, but doesn't sink as fast as a Lairon or die like a Charizard would. His plates must be getting waterlogged, though.

Carrying Claws saps my strength, and my lungs burn, but then I see Ghost. Arm bare and blistered but holding X anyway. She grabs Dragonair's tail and together we find a barely conscious Surge and a not at all conscious Raichu.

Bridge and Yamada take the longest to find, floating dangerously close to the surface, the Ninetails desperately fighting to swim up and Bridge wrestling them down.

With all our help, Bridge restrains Yamada, then Dragonair ropes herself around us and we slowly sink. I kick us towards the beach and bump against a slope where the sandbar angles towards the surface.

My vision fades. The darkness is welcoming.

No.

I asked my team to trust me. They can all black out, but I have to stay awake. Me and Claws.

My Sandslash digs furiously at the bank and I'm impressed by his vigor. Of course, even though my pokemon has a problem with water, subterranean creatures need less air. But I need plenty and my lungs are ready to explode.

He eventually burrows a tiny cave and we're lucky the earth is firm enough to hold. Water fills most of it, but Claws is smart enough to carve a roof high enough to fit a human head. But it's not enough. I urge my Pokémon on.

I'm so sorry, friend, it's not enough.

The cave expands until we can all fit, legs crossed and heads bobbing above water. There's not enough space for CPR, but somehow we force the water from the lungs of Raichu, Yamada, Surge, and X, who doesn't wake up.

I pray he's not out for good.

The only light is the faint glow of Dragonair's horn. Claws wedges himself between my shoulder and the wall to fall asleep. The air trapped between the rocks won't last long, and we have to wait down here long enough that the cavalry will be certain we're dead, so eventually I'll have to wake my Sandslash and ask him to dig a narrow chimney to let in oxygen. But not yet.

Yamada shivers and curls inside her owner’s arms, and Bridge holds her above the water best she can. Dragonair coils around Ghost who coos and pets the serpent-dragon. Surge looks more dead than any of us, save X, and looks at no one. Not even Raichu.

"This might be a stupid question, LT.” It hurts to talk. It hurts to breathe. "Could Yamada make a flame? Just a small one?"

"Soaking wet? No way."

"Well, then we can't stay as long as I'd like. The water’s not that cold, but hypothermia will still take us if we tempt it."

"Bear is fucking dead."

My eyes become steel, and I dare Bridge to look away. "I'm aware."

"Yeah? You could act like it, Cap. And is no one going to mention the Snorlax in the corner?"

"Bridge," Ghost sighs.

I tense. "You're out of line, LT.”

"I don't think so. I think I'm the only sane one here. We went up against a hundred guys with a rookie, and Bear paid the price. Not to mention your face. Ghost's arm. X might have brain damage."

"Bullshit," I say. Surge looks up. I ignore him. "Bad Intel got Bear wasted. We went in blind, no knowledge of the Crystalnode or what guarded it. Maybe if the Corporal had been less green, Kazan would be alive. Maybe. But the cavalry was on call and not going to let us get away with the locale of that mine. Not without a fight. That showdown was bound to happen and we were bound to lose. But we're alive."

"With zilch to show for it. Bear died for nothing."

It's always for nothing.

Instead, I say, "Bear was a Ranger. None of us expect to die of age."

Bridge scowls. "Fuck that. I plan on surviving, and winning, this war. Sir."

I let the silence hang. Now's as good a time as any to wake Claws. I apologize, but I can feel the CO2 build-up. Claws gets to work without complaint.

You're the best of us, love.

I replay the bunker disaster in my head. The tack-tack of Claws digging lends a rhythm to my thoughts as I think about the mine whose treasure is the reason for the whole blasted war.


	3. Chapter 3

X groans. "I've woken up bruised, wet, sporting a raging headache, with no idea where I am before, but I at least got a night of booze and sex beforehand."

Thank Arceus. Or the Primals. Thank the god of Weedles if it helps.

"Wait, where's Sky? And Bear?"

Tick-tack-tack goes Claws upward dig. Surge covers his face with his hands.

"Your Scyther's gone," says Ghost.

X blanches and Bridge shakes her head. "It's not dead, X. It escaped. There and gone. Abra style."

The look X gives me is one I haven't seen on him since Kaido and Eiji died. Serious.

"No bullshit," I say. "Sky really is alive. The car flipped, tossed the rest of us in the drink, and he bailed."

X grins. "He always was an asshole... Wait. Bear."

It looks like Bridge is about to pat X's shoulder, thinks better of it, then just shakes her head.

"Shit!" X screams. "Fuck! Fuckshit-shitfuck!"

"Yeah," agrees Ghost.

X looks at Dragonair with pity. "Poor guy."

Claws drops some dirt on the unburned half of my face. I shake it off, knowing Ghost is still itching to talk about the mine, and truth is there'll never be a good time. So I start.

"Kazan's lab was built on top of a Crystalnode vein."

X blinks. "No shit?”

"A huge one, by the looks of it," says Bridge. "Might be valuable enough info to keep Command from killing us over Kazan."

"Or," whispers Ghost. "Or we don't have to. Tell them."

Bridge leans forward as much as she can. "I'm going to forget that treason. Just this once, understood?"

"I'm not saying cover it up and leave the Crystalnode to the Consortium. Not indefinitely. But do we have to report it right away?"

"Yes."

Somehow, Ghost shrinks to even smaller. I should say something.

"I just... I mean, we can go back to the base. Take initiative. Blow the mine sky high ourselves," Ghost whispers.

Bridge snorts. "With what ordinance? What guns? What evac plan or vehicle? Besides, command may want to take the mine for themselves."

"Impossible," says X. "Kanto is in no position to hold ground this far inland in Hoenn, if at all."

"Yeah, well, we have air superiority on Hoenn, and it's not too far to carpet bomb," says Bridge. "That base made the mistake of going lax on the AA guns. Time to pay in blood."

Ghost closes her eyes. "The surrounding village will be flattened."

A ray of blue light bursts into our hole. Surge recoils and its sudden enough to make me squint. Claws drops down and looks to me for permission to sleep. I give it. Of course I do.

But Ghost doesn't seem to notice. I want to tell Bridge we're going with Ghost's plan. I want to support her because I know her history. So does Bridge, though. People from other squads think our Specialist is called Ghost because she's a medium and stealthy.

But she's been a Ghost since eleven years old, when the war first went truly global eight years back. When she lived on a neutral island with the richest Crystalnode cave system yet discovered. Where the Allied and Consortium powers clashed so fiercely that a tiny fishing isle between the Sevii and the Orange didn't stand a chance.

No residents survived, save one. Living among the ashes of the dead for three years after the caves dried and the powers had long since left, scrounging and talking to the dead, until a passing naval ship rescued her. If you can call being drafted into this war a rescue.

I want to hold Ghost and tell her that it will never happen to any little girl ever again and if it does, she will have no part of it.

But it will, and she probably will, too, because Bridge is right. As usual.

"How is that my problem?" Bridge finally responds.

And since Bridge is fire and Ghost ice, Ghost melts. I place a hand on my specialist's shoulder. She doesn’t react.

"I'm sorry, Ghost," I say. "Our focus now is getting home. What happens after that is on command’s head."

"Why, uhh—" Surge finds the courage to speak. I guess his next words. "Why is this mine so important, ma'am?"

"It's Crystalnode," says X, like that's the end of it.

"Sure, and I'm sure it's worth a lot of money, Sarge. Crystalnode shrunk computers a shit-ton. But... we're a military unit. Not a tech contractor. You're all talking like the enemy has Zapdos chained up under the base."

"Oh, right, he doesn't know," says X before giving me a look suggesting disclosure. Ghost is still AWOL, so I glance to Bridge.

"Tell him," she says. "Whatever else he is, Rook's still a Ranger. He should know."

"Agreed. So, Corporal, the war started after the Kanto prez got iced by an Unovan assassin and the Kalos marines moved in on Fuchsia City to take advantage of the chaos, right?"

He nods.

”Wrong. Most of it, at least. Hard to say. Maybe the Commander-in-Chief was murdered, maybe he had a stroke, maybe he's sipping daiquiris and giving orders from a clandestine base in a Johto forest."

"But—"

Bridge slaps him upside the head lightly. "Can it. Listen. Learn."

"So, the siege on Fuchsia wasn't a land grab and we didn't repel Kalos against all odds. I mean, shit, motherfuckers had two battleships, a Gyrados, and a Salamence. No, they got what they'd come for, and left. A major shipment of Crystalnode from Four Island. Whatever the war is about on paper, it's all over that element."

Surge's eyes are half as wide as his head. "But, uhh, it's an element for data storage and processing."

"That’s what we thought at first. Look, X is better at this sort of thing."

X's eyes light up, at the compliment or the chance to explain something, I'm not sure. "Computers are just the beginning, Greenie. When the potential applications came to light, the government nationalized the whole supply, leaving the mega corps with just enough to keep up the illusion that it's a computer component and not the most important discovery in centuries."

X grabs a piece of sandstone. "See this rock? It contains imprints of its history. A carbon signature. Dents and run off lines and sediment it’s picked up from it's fascinating ten million year rock life."

Sarge smashes the stone on the wall and it crumbles.

"And now it's gone forever, which isn't part of the illustration. Anyway, anyway, anyway. Imagine that rock was translucent and purpley and kept imprints of every photon that's passed through it in a hundred years, ready for retrieval if you knew where to look."

I see the implications fly over Surge's head. I know the feeling.

"What are, uhh, the uses of that?"

"Right now? Not much, to be honest. But the theoretical applications of an element that can convert everything to pure data? Endless. But the coup-de-grace that could win the war? Breaking living matter down to a photon-data-stream and storing it perfectly. I get hard just thinking about it.

"Copying someone's memories and filtering through them like a video-reel? Go screw yourself, dubiously useful interrogations. Cloning? Why not. Breaking you down to light and reassembling you somewhere else? Maybe."

Surge raises both eyebrows. "Hmm. Would that be teleporting or just killing you and making a copy?"

"Look, kid, I know a lot of shit. War. Science. Cards. But I know fuck all about philosophy."

The sun must be rising because the blue light turns blood-orange. It hits Surge's face and I notice how pale it is. I wonder if the truth is that shocking or if it's blood loss. The color of the water is finally visible and it's far more red than expected.

Please, whoever's listening, don't let the rookie lose an arm on his first mission.

"So how do you know all this if it's such a conspiracy?" the rookie asks.

X shrugs. "All Rangers piece together half of it. Most our missions have something to do with crystal. But I was a late bloomer, trainer-wise. My first bonding was just a few years back, so I spent nineteen o' four to nineteen o' nine in the Navy's R&D corps. Older than I look. Either way, turns out I prefer fatigues to a lab coat."

"History lessons over," I say, shaking awake Claws and Yamada." We need to move before dawn ends and it's so bright anyone could spot us for a mile.

We consider asking Claws to burrow us out and avoid getting wetter, but I can't bring myself to ask. I help Surge and Claws swim to the surface while Ghost helps X, whose balance is still fucked. If Arceus has any mercy, his usefulness as a sniper won't be shot, no pun intended.

Dragonair meets us at the shore, head and tail bobbing above the surface. We all know it. She's staying. Command will chew me out, but every damn one of us will falsify the after action report. It's tradition in every ranger squad from Kanto to Oblivia. A ranger dies, their Pokémon goes free.

General Kenjii will tell me that a trained and battle tested Pokémon is a military asset. They'd rather lock her in a pen until they find another Ranger to forcibly bond her to. So we lie.

It ran off in the chaos. We had to leave it behind or risk all our lives. It was vaporized by a Tropius.

The lie doesn't matter. The brass knows the game and we play it anyway, because we're out here in the mud and they get iced drinks.

"It's wrong," says Bridge. "Leaving his body to decay in a foreign lake."

Surge nods. "The bones can't weigh much. Maybe if we dive down—"

"No," I say. "Corporal Mitsui... Bear. It's best he stays with Dragonair. Had no living relation."

"He had us," whispers Ghost.

"Damn right," says X. "If I had one to pour out right now..." X has to think about it, I guess. "Yeah. Yeah, yeah I'd dump it."

Bridge smirks. "He never once drank, you know. His dad did. A lot. He made me promise not to tell."

X looks offended. "Bull. We hit up bars together on his twentieth! And that guy had to be seasoned, he out-drank me. Me."

"Ginger ale," says Bridge with a chuckle.

"Cheating son of a bitch! We had money on that drinking game."

The troops all laugh, and I join in. Who knows when the next one will come along? Bridge has a pretty, melodic laugh. Surge's is quiet. Barely audible. And Ghost sounds like a person who's never heard a laugh before, just seen actors do it on the silent screen of the cinema. Dragonair adds a sort of mournful dirge to the mix and we go still.

I'm momentarily stunned by the beauty of the sun's pink rays reflecting off the lake, made more breathtaking by the Dragonair. I soak it in; I'll more than like never return to this lake and just as likely never see another Dragonair.

Maybe I should say some words, but I'm not religious or good at speeches, so I just salute the lake. The eleventh follows suit and then I find a driftwood cane for X. Ghost finds X's helmet in the sand and fills it with water. We'll drink from it once Yamada, (currently carried by Bridge's good arm and Surge,) has enough energy to boil it.

We're supposed to be at evac within the hour. Clearly, that's not happening. And since our comms are all dead, we can't ask our pick-up to wait. Policy says he waits fourteen hours before leaving us high and dry.

On foot, unarmed, with wounded, and taking a wide berth around populated areas, we'll be cutting it close. But I'm sure we can make it. Half-sure, at least.


	4. Chapter 4

We begin the long hike.

"Can we stop and pick up Jack?" Ghost looks so forlorn, I almost say yes out of reflex.

"Negative, Specialist. He'll meet us at evac or he'll meet us at base four days or so from now. He knows the way."

No words and half an hour later, I spot a stone outcropping. We won't make it much farther without warming ourselves and some rest. Damn this humidity. All this walking, we're still soaked.

"Can Yamada—"

"No," Bridge wastes no time snapping off. "She's barely awake. Barely alive."

I'd never seen the high-energy Ninetails so still and I don't press the issue.

"Stay here," I say, and leave to find kindling.

Alone with my thoughts, I try and direct my anger at the Consortium. Or at the Charizard rider. But he was just doing his job and half the world is too big an idea to properly hate.

No, I just picture Command. General Kenji with his secrets and his 'soldiers are numbers' attitude and his ugly, graying goatee.

I find brush and deadfall next to a set of tracks and carry them back to the crag.

"We need food," I hear Surge complain.

"I'd settle for dry underwear," says X while he treats the rookie's wounds.

Bridge cuddles with Yamada while Ghost and I start the fire. I'm not used to starting one by hand, but we manage. The eleventh strip down to our undershorts and singlets, setting our fatigues on the rocks to dry. Not even X has a smart comment, and I'm grateful.

Ghost wrings out her too-long-according-to-regs hair while I dry my short cropped locks. I never had too many issues with my appearance past grade school, but I've always loved Ghost's hair. Can't bring myself to grow mine out, though.

It feels unbelievably good to huddle together by the fire and drink boiled water and drift off. We can’t spare more than a few hours, but I don't even set a watch.

Maybe two hours later, an angry growl wakes us. Ten yards outside our shelter stands a Machamp, furious at the trespassers, six limbs bulging with muscle fiber. And between it and us, Claws.

One of the shitty side effects of long term war: artificially sped up natural selection. High end evos fucking everywhere.

My Pokémon moves in to attack. "Claws, stop!" I shout, instantly realizing my mistake. Claws freezes, looks back at us, and gets sucker punched. My lungs freeze. The Machamp lifts Claws with four arms and hurls him into the sharp edge of the overhang.

"Claws!"

X hobbles toward my Sandslash as I charge. On my way, I pick up a stick which I aim at the Pokémon’s head. Machamp catches the stick in one hand and grabs each of my wrists and one of my calves in the others. It yanks and all my joints pop.

Ghost, Surge, and Bridge rush in next. Machamp kicks Surge in the gut, breaks my stick over Bridge's shoulder, and swings me into Ghost as a club. We crumple into each other and I'm not sure who’s hurt worse.

The Machamp lifts a massive boulder, probably to crush us, and a green blur zips over the terrain, aimed at the wild Pokémon's back. Two razor sharp arms slash the Machamp, and it drops the rock on its own head. Out like a light, X has to call off his Scyther to stop Sky from finishing the thing off.

"It's okay, Sky, we invaded his home. But you did good."

Surge, Ghost, Bridge, and I are bruised, but we can all stand on our own. Sky flutters to his owner, who rubs its chitinous leg. "Good to see you, buddy."

I'm not paying attention, already kneeled over my Sandslash, busy listening for Claws’ heartbeat.

"Do something, X!"

X shoves me out of the way, and I hover. "Boss, I'm going to need some space." It takes all my self-control to pull myself away.

A few tense minutes later, the rest of us are dressed. Our clothes are slightly damp, but thank Kyogre it didn't rain. X finally sighs, and stands.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Without X-rays, I can't be sure of anything."

"What do you think?"

"Sorry, boss, it's not great. He's coughing blood and breathing weird. So there's probably internal bleeding. Or maybe a punctured lung."

"Those sound like very different diagnosis, Sergeant!"

"Sorry, but I never went to med school and I'm sure as hell not a Poké-Doc."

"No, you're right, I'm sorry." I try and calm my pulse. I fail. "Anything else?"

"Let's hope it's not the lung or he's a goner. Bleeding? All depends. Maybe he has an hour. Maybe three days."

I pick up Claws like an infant. His weight and spines hurt, but everything hurts, anyway.

"Squad, double time. No rest until we reach the boat."

"My shoulder's fucked," moans Bridge. "I don't think I can carry Yamada."

"I'll do it." It’s Surge.

Bridge raises an eyebrow. "Your arm, though. That's a lot of weight, Rook."

"No more than Claws." Surge motions at me before he gently tosses the Ninetails over his back.

Bridge's eyes fall to her feet. "Thank you."

All right. Time to move dirt.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't know how we cover so much ground. Each step burns more than the last and Ghost helps me with Claws occasionally, but I make sure to lug most the weight. I'm so sorry, my friend. It's my fault.

You tried to protect me, trusted my leadership. It might have gotten you killed. Exactly where I lead Bear and Kaido and Eiji.

Stop it.

Pity yourself later. Just keep walking. Walk until you're safe and you can collapse where you stand and sleep longer than a Snorlax. But until then you have to walk.

I feel as if ten more steps is all I can take, so I count them out. Then I do another set of ten. And another. Nine seconds pass between each of Claws' breaths, and my heart stops every time.

Sunsets in Hoenn are more famous than the rises, but we take no time to appreciate the view.

The coast comes in sight, maybe an hour out. May as well be a thousand miles.

X spots him first. "Fuck," is all my Sergeant says.

Then we all see it. The kid's maybe eleven years old, flashlight in one hand, net in the other. Out catching Volbeats. Stupid fucking kid. Where are his parents? Dead, maybe. Maybe by my rifle. Doesn't he know there are dangerous Pokémon out here? Doesn't he know there's a war and people like me may have to hurt him so he doesn't run back to his village to give away our position? Doesn't he know?

None of us move, including the kid. First side to flinch forces the other to act, and what that action might be is too terrifying a thought to imagine, so we’re motionless.

Our guns are rusting at the bottom of Lake May, so I don't have the option to shoot out a leg or foot. I'm glad. I'm in no condition to chase him down. Even if I could, what then? It's not like we can afford the time to drag him with us to the beach.

Bridge is one step ahead of me. "Sky could cut him down."

Through closed eyes and gritted teeth, X says, "He could."

And X would do it, too, if I ordered him to sic a Scyther on a child. His drinking would worsen, somehow, but he'd do it.

"No fucking way," I growl.

"Fine," Bridge says with a nod. "We don't need to kill him, Cap. I don't want to, either. But we both know how fast Ghost is. Even now, she could catch him. Breaking an ankle is all it would take."

Ghost staggers back, and I'm not so certain she'd follow that command. And if she did, would she ever forgive me?

"We'll take our chances."

"But Cap—"

"Move!"

X lets out a breath. Bridge puts on a show of indignation but I can tell she's relieved. As the child scurries off, Ghost walks by and gives my hand a squeeze.

We make it to the boat with eleven minutes to spare. Jack's been waiting, and Ghost convinces him to get in his walnut-tree coffin able to hold a Pokémon of his type.

Everyone sleeps on the ride back to Kanto. Everyone but me.

. . . . .

It's been a week since the Kazan disaster and General Kenji's finally decided to grace me with a debriefing. I stand at attention in his sweltering office, waiting, and he turns on the air conditioning when he enters before sitting down.

He says nothing for a minute.

By now my knees are ready to buckle and I wonder as to the point of this power play. It's not like I'm a threat to his job. He's only a glorified bureaucrat, but I'm a Ranger. They'll pull me from the field when I'm dead.

"At ease, Captain."

"Sir." I imagine telling him that his attempt at a beard makes him look like a Gogoat. It takes all my willpower not to smirk.

"I hope your face doesn't hurt anymore. It's a shame. You always had a nice face."

"Sir." How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?

"How's Fangs?"

"Claws; and he's recovering, Sir. Two more weeks in rehab and the doc expects he can re-enter deployment."

"Glad to hear it, glad to hear it. But—" He frowns. "I had a mission for the eleventh. Finding a temporary leader on such short notice, well. Hmm."

"Sir, the eleventh Kanto Rangers are my squad."

"Precisely. They're a Ranger squad. The Pokémon are sort of the point." He chuckles.

Why isn't there a commendation for not decking intolerable COs? "Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Of course."

"Sir, we're down a man and two Pokémon. Sidelining me now and bringing in a ringer will compromise the efficacy of the team. I could use another body on this mission, if they're experienced, but I can still lead these soldiers. Sir."

He narrows his eyes and I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Funny. That's two missions in a row you've needed a replacement."

That fucker.

I realize too late I've locked my knees and collapse. The General bounces to his feet to reach across the oak desk and catch me.

"Goodness, are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine. I just... haven't eaten."

"Please, take a seat."

"I'd rather stand, thank you, Sir."

"I insist."

I do as bid but Kenji stays on his feet. How is it that no matter who's sitting, he wins authority?

"Please go to the mess hall when we're finished. Hmm. We've gotten ahead of ourselves. We must walk the roads of the past before we walk the roads of the future. And the after action reports were an interesting read."

Glad you found it entertaining, prick.

"I'm deeply saddened by the death of Corporal Mitsui. Bear, was it?"

You don't get to call him that. You never fought with him. "That was his call sign, yes, Sir."

"Yes. He was a good soldier and I've passed along your recommendation for a posthumous Golden Medal of Meritorious Service. I'm also disappointed at the death of Dr. Kazan. If only both tragedies had been preventable."

Stop with the passive-aggressive bullshit. If you've something to say, say it.

"We were blind-sided and outmatched, Sir. We expected a tiny military installation hiding an arms developer. We got a massive Crystalnode mine guarded by a top notch cavalry squad."

"I read the reports. Captain, you understand the expense we incurred to ensure this operation’s success?"

"Yes, Sir. I'd point out that a dead arms developer is better than a Consortium one, and we now have the location of a large quantity of Crystalnode." Unless the sons of bitches already suspected.

"Let me remind you, Captain, that assessing the strategic value of military intelligence is not in your job description. But while you're speculating, mind hazarding a guess at the value of a trained dragon with hyper-beam?"

"It ran off, Sir."

"That right? The Scyther flew off, you found it."

"Sky found us, Sir. It probably tracked us through Sergeant Amori's bond."

General Kenji's pleasant veneer drops and I steel my gaze. You really wanna do this, asshole? This your hill to die on?

He collapses into his chair which I take as leave to stand.

"Fucking Rangers. Your dossier for the next mission is with my secretary. You leave tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow, Sir? I gave seven days leave to—"

"I cut it to five. Objections?"

I pause a bit too long. "None."

"Fan-fucking-tastic. I'll try and scrounge up an unassigned Ranger for next mission. Permission to leave."

I waste no time in doing so and head to the Poké-Ward to read the file at Claws' bedside. Bastard was bluffing about pulling me. With a mission tomorrow, wouldn't have been near enough time. Besides, he knows how good I am, and his rep relies heavily on the performance of the eleventh.

The mission is straight forward enough. Nothing to save, a shit-ton to destroy. Of course, we aren't told why, but we never are. We've been assigned to destroy a secret research facility in the Unovan desert.

A lot of people are going to die, but as long as none of them are one of mine, screw it.

I wake up two hours earlier than the rendezvous with the eleventh and I raid the armory. No one double checks with their superior to approve my armament requests. I'm a Ranger Captain.

Leaving Claws behind feels worse than going in unarmed. Maybe I overcompensate. In addition to my AR, I pack a handgun, three knives, a micro-SMG, heavy armor, a whole mess of grenades, and a claymore. Oo-fucking-rah, Unovan bastards.

Surge is the first one at the meet-up point. X is the last, clocking in ten minutes late. It's great to see everyone on their feet and healthy, especially Yamada.

One look at my bulging arms bag and X bursts out laughing. "I take it we aren't going to a Poké-Training seminar?" He looks like hell, and Bridge says as much. "Age finally caught up with me, love. All at once, bam, I look mine."

"You've only seven years on me, Sergeant, and I'm not quite thirty," I say. "You look... double that. If I'm generous." He chuckles, and I smile, but add, "Next time, when I give you an appointment, use military time, not hangover time."

"Right, sorry, boss. Will do."

"Good. So. Everyone have a good weekend?"

Ghost shrugs. "Spent most of it camping in the Viridian forest."

"Quality time with Jack?" I ask. She shakes her head. I envy her. A week alone sounds nice.

"You know I wasn't far from you, Ghost,” says Bridge. “I was visiting my mom in Pallet Town. It was good, thanks, Cap."

No doubt you gave her half your salary, too. Sometimes I forget the other side of Bridge.

"I just trained all week," says Surge.

Bridge rolls her eyes. "Good for you, let's all tell Rook how proud we are."

"I was just sharing," he mumbles.

"Wait, that's not a bad call sign," I say, and try it out on my tongue. "Rook."

"It means Green," whines Surge.

"No, think chess. The rook's the second most powerful token, all pieces taken on their own."

"I didn't know you played chess, boss,” says X.

"I'm quite good."

X smiles, about to issue a challenge, I'm sure, then his face scrunches. "Doesn't the new guy already have a call sign?"

"What are you smoking?" asks Bridge.

"Not as much shit as I'd like, I assure you."

"No, Sergeant,” says Bridge. “I mean no one gets a call sign their first mission. Surge is his name."

X snorts in glee. "No fucking way. You are not a guy named fucking Surge bonded to a fucking Raichu!"

Surge scratches the nape of his neck. "Ha, ha, it's, uhh, a weird name, I know. I think it's made up, uhh, but the Surge's have all been soldiers. You can look it up. If, uh, I have a son, he'll probably be Corporal Surge, too, one day."

"Okay, well, that's boring kid," says X. "But I'm vetoing Rook. I think we should crank this up a notch. My vote for call sign is Surge Voltage, Lightning Lord."

"I prefer Rook, X, but thanks for your input,” I say, “Anyway, I'm glad the week was enjoyable."

"No, wait," says X. "Everyone hasn't shared yet. Now, my story is simple. Days one and two were spent in medical on pain meds. As for the rest, let's say I don't remember a minute of it, so I assume it was incredible. But I wanna know what the boss does on her week off."

Despite my story being personal, too personal to be appropriate, I almost tell them. But I'm their CO before their friend. Always. "Mine was even less eventful. I just watched over Claws and got chewed out by Kenji. Nothing special. So, who's ready to hop flights half-way around the world?"


	6. Chapter 6

I've never cared for planes. I don't mind that we're all on the iron floor of the cargo hold. Comfort is irrelevant. And it's certainly not heights.

When I was seventeen, I ran away during Golden Week. Told my parents I was camping on a beach near Fuschia. But instead, I hiked all the way to Mt. Silver and scaled it without so much as a rope. Just to see if I could. And because my classmate Tetsi Hyata had climbed it the previous summer, (albeit with pitons and a harness,) and I damn sure wasn't letting Hyata be better than me.

Which didn't mean I wasn't scared on that cliff. Half-way up, I regretted my choice more than I had anything. Muscles aching, I literally pissed myself. But I reached the top, bought a swimsuit and a few touristy trinkets my parents would believe were from Fuschia on the trip home, and to this day no one knows but me and the Johto dirt.

Point being, I have no fear of heights.

And I'm not claustrophobic. Hell, a week prior I'd kept my shit together in a tiny, unstable cave with five people and three Pokémon.

But planes always make me feel... helpless.

Even on a train, maybe I could jump out if it caught fire. Or climb a top, gun in hand, if someone tried to board it. But should anything go south on a plane, there's fuck all I can do.

I keep my eyes closed, arms wrapped around myself under my jacket, pretending to be asleep. The team can't know their Captain has a phobia of flying.

Our Pokémon have long since been let out of their traveling crates, (save Jack,) which is against the rules, but we'll lock them up again prior to landing with no one the wiser.

The eleventh kills time playing cards. I'd enjoy the distraction, but I shouldn't join them, so I don't. X knocks Bridge and Rook out in the same hand. They ask about a buy in, and X says he'd accept articles of clothing in place of cash. But Ghost refuses to honor anything of the sort, so she and X play it out mono-e-mono.

"Damn you, no way you bluffed that good with such an easy Fairy Flush on the board," says X as Ghost cleans up the last of the scratch. "You read my mind, Specialist?"

"She's a medium, not an empath," says Bridge. "And you're not as good at cards as you think."

I smile in my mock-sleep. I've a good squad. I'm lucky. Then I wonder whose luck will run out next. Who will I bury in my heart beside Kaido and Eiji and Bear, but fail to bury in the ground? Ranger's tend to stay where they drop, when there's anything left. If Arceus has any mercy, I'll be dead before any more of my squad.

When I was an enlisted grunt, and a comrade fell, the grief was intermingled with a sick sense of relief. To my shame, I'd think, 'it wasn't me.' That feeling no longer exists. Maybe it's because I'm an officer. Maybe I just give fewer shits about living.

Everyone else sleeps on the second flight, this time we go to a secret allied island near Alola where a schooner will ferry us to the Unovan coast. It's a much smaller plane, no real room to un-pen the Pokémon, and I wonder if Bridge realizes Rook sleeps with his head on her calf.

A hand touches my shoulder, and I jump.

"Sorry," Ghost whispers.

How she snuck up in me in an eleven foot cargo hold, who knows.

"It's fine. Just startled. Anything wrong, Ghost?"

"I was about to ask you that, Sir. Are you... good?"

I recoil. "Uh, yeah. Yes, I'm fine. Do I look like shit, or something, Specialist?" My hand instinctively rubs the burned half of my face.

"How you look is far from a problem." She leans her back into the wall beside me without asking. I don't mind.

I'm not okay, of course, not under the surface. Can I hide that from her? Can mediums see auras? Either way, I volunteer nothing and hope Ghost doesn't pry. She doesn't.

Instead, she asks, "Would you tell me about your week off, Captain?"

"Uneventful."

Ghost's arm brushes mine, and it's cold. In a good way, somehow, but I still shiver and she pulls back an inch. Good. It's better that way.

"With all due respect, Sir, I don't believe that for a second. I know I'm not the best with people, but I can read them better than I can read words. Example. You weren't asleep earlier."

I almost tell her she's stepped out of line. That this sort of fraternization is inappropriate. But I also want to talk to somebody, and since dad's grave is all the way in Celadon and mom isn't much for conversation, there's not many people I can talk to. Not anyone, really.

"Third day into our leave," I whisper. "Went to a bar to get shit-faced. Met a nice woman instead. She manages a lumber operation not far from base."

Ghost gives me a sincere smile, albeit filtered through her permanent faraway expression. "Anything there, Sir?"

I shake my head. "She found me interesting when she learned I was Spec Ops. Found it attractive. And I, uhh, went to her place after two cocktails a piece. But no way a woman like that wants something steady with one of us. Hell, you remember Lieutenant Yuasa? He couldn't handle my position, and he was military."

Ghost rolls her eyes. "In analytics."

"Careful, E-3, that's a superior officer." But I say it with a smile and we share a laugh.

Shit, this is wrong.

I straighten my posture. "Thank you for your concern, Specialist. We should both get some more rest. We're about to be up for twenty hours straight."

I turn my back to Ghost and make a real effort to drift off, despite every rattle of this iron death tube spiking my pulse.

Unlike my Specialist, I'm shit at guessing other's emotions, most of all hers, and I hope I didn't hurt her feelings. But guarding her emotions isn't my job. Just guarding her life.

Like usual, I don't remember my dreams. If I had to guess, they weren't pleasant.

We hit the shores of Unova sometime after three AM without incident save Bridge upchucking during the boat ride. I thank the pilot, who I peg as a bribed local smuggler, not a Kantoan spy.

Our contact, however, is an Unovan defector who's fed us intel for months. The dossier says he's survived in hostile territory for nearly two years, so surely he can safely guide us to the secret research facility. Rendezvous is six clicks west, so we start walking.

"How stable do you think this guy is?" asks Bridge. "Coming on his second year behind enemy lines? Alone? Can't be good for the brain."

"It's different," says Ghost. "He's alone in hostile territory, yes. But it's still his home. It's different when it's your home."

"Right," says Bridge, picking at her arm, clearly remembering Ghost's history. "Sorry."

"For what?" Ghost asks.

I'm too busy being on high alert to take notice. Unfamiliar territory, unfamiliar Pokémon. None of us has been to Unova before, though my family always talked about vacationing here. I'm sure Castilia City is more impressive, but looking at the lifeless desert, I question my mom and dad's judgement.

A Salamance scurries by and we raise our weapons.

"That got too close without us noticing, squad. Keep your eyes peeled."

Rook nods. "Roger."

"Hard to see shit by a half moon," says Bridge.

"It'll be worse when the sun decides to join the party," says X. "The heat waves and reflections off the sand will be blinding. Not to mention the heat itself. Summer in Kanto will seem like... err... not hot, in comparison."

Part of me regrets the reinforced ballistic armor.

Ghost points to a Trapinch half buried in the sand, then a shallow hole that could be a Sandile's doing. My Specialist almost looks like she's enjoying this.

An hour before sun-up, we reach our co-ordinates. It's as empty as the rest of the desert. Not even a cactus in sight, certainly no tent or cave. The most notable absence; our contact.

"The fuck," says X. "Didn't the file say he has some sort of base out here?"

Rook shrugs. "Maybe it's mobile."

The ground rumbles and I nearly loose my balance. "Shifting sands! Get to high ground!"

Before my order can be followed, an Onix bursts through the desert floor, leaping into the air like a Seaking out of the ocean. No one keeps their footing, and Rook lets off half an SMG clip from his back. They ricochet off the rocks and I roll toward the Corporal and shove the barrel into the sand. The Onix faces us, rage in its eyes.

I jump to me feet and look for cover, not that anything could stop an Onix.

A gray, metal hatch built atop one of the Onix's spines like a strange saddle cracks open.

"The hell shot my Onix?" screams the rider in a thick, Unovan accent, before dropping ten feet to the ground. Jeans, thick leather belt and boots, a revolver on each hip, and an honest-to-Kyogre cowboy hat. If this was a costume in a store, I'd call it prejudiced.

"Calm, girl," he says as he rubs the Onix's body.

Save Surge, my squad has weapons high. "Stand down, team." I approach the cowboy. "You must be Clint."

"And you must be the asshole who lit into my Pokémon."

"Rest assured, I'll tear my subordinate a new one for acting out of turn. But if the Corporal hadn't opened fire, I might have. What sort of entrance was that?"

Clint tips his hat. "A dramatic one?"

X laughs incredulously. Bridge, eyes aflame, spits. Ghost helps Rook to his feet.

I narrow my eyebrows and take a step forward, finger on my rifle trigger. "I saw a Totadile a mile back."

"Sure it wasn't a Sandile? They're real pests in these parts," says Clint, completing the passphrase. His laugh is loud and long and accentuated by slapping my shoulder.

I relax, and one by one, my team follows.

"That was a real dick move earlier, Clint," I say, and he roars all the harder.

"You don't become a legend by neglecting theatrics."

"Is that what all the--" I wave at his outfit. "Is about? You want to be some sort of rebel icon?"

"Can't deny my image is memorable. And if I'm going to go down as a patriot, not some Kanto-traitor, I'm going to need every edge I can get."

I squint, studying his features. His skin is pale, but his features are familiar. "You're from Kanto."

"Half of me is. But I'm officially from Nimbasa City. I was born in Unova, I'll die in Unova, and I love my country. Don't think for a second I'm doing any of this for yours."

"Mind telling us--“

"Right now, yeah, I mind. Assholes are always hunting me, and Private Trigger-Happy just screamed our location. Check it out." Clint points to three dust clouds, due north, growing larger.

"Give you three guesses who sent the welcoming party. We have maybe three minutes." Starting at the end of Onix's tail, Clint climbs his Pokémon toward his shunt shaped compartment. Five others, even more rickety looking, are strapped to different boulders along the Onix body. "Hurry, get in."

"Hell no," says Bridge.

"I made the extra saddles special for you," Clint says with a smirk. When no-one moves, the smirk drops. "Look, we can't outrun dune buggies on foot, so you can strap yourselves in and enjoy the ride, or wait to be shot. I'm gone in forty seconds, either way."

My eyes bounce between our pursuers and the slipshod coffins on Onix back.

"Dammit." I hop in the nearest one and the eleventh reluctantly follows suit. At least I don't have to share my pod with a Pokémon.

"Yamada and I don't fit," screams the largest of us, Bridge.

"Put her in with me," offers the slightest, Ghost. "Jack doesn't take up space."

"Hurry," shouts Clint, as a few bullets explode into the sand. X and Surge close themselves in with their Pokémon.

"I owe you one," says Bridge as she climbs over the Onix' back to hand off her Ninetails. On her way back to her own compartment, a rocket propelled grenade detonates meters away. Onix bucks and roars, Bridge desperately claws for a handhold, and enough dust to blind me fills the air.

"There's my cue," shouts Clint. "Onix, dive!"

"Clint, you fucker, wait," I manage as loud as I can. But we're already sinking, and unless I want to be underground in a sand filled casket, the only thing to do is shut my own door.

Everything goes dark. And I thought planes were bad.


End file.
